Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty,
Sleeping or waking, 't is no matter how,
So he be dead: for that is good deceit
Which mates him first that first intends deceit.
Q. Mar. Thrice noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely
spoke.
Suf. Not resolute, except so much were done :
For things are often spoke and seldom meant.
But that my heart accordeth with my tongue
(Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe),
Say but the word, and I will be his priest.
Car. But I would have him dead, my lord of
Suffolk,
Ere you can take due orders for a priest.
Say you consent, and censure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner;
I tender so the safety of my liege.
Suf. Here is my hand; the deed is worthy doing.
Q. Mar. And so say I.
York. And I and now we three have spoke it,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come
amain,
To signify that rebels there are up,
And put the Englishmen unto the sword.
Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,
Before the wound do grow incurable :
For, being green, there is great hope of help.
Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient
stop!
What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither. 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employed: Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy, Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have stayed in France so long.
York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.
I rather would have lost my life betimes,
Than bring a burden of dishonour home,
By staying there so long till all were lost.
Shew me one scar charáctered on thy skin:
Men's flesh preserved so whole, do seldom win.
Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove a
raging fire,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with:-
No more, good York: sweet Somerset, be still.
Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
Might happily have proved far worse than his.
York. What, worse than naught? nay, then a
shame take all!
Som. And in the number thee, that wishest
shame!
Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is.
The uncivil kernes of Ireland are in arms, And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : To Ireland will you lead a band of men, Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen?
York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty. Suf. Why, our authority is his consent, And what we do establish he confirms: Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. York. I am content. Provide me soldiers, lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.
Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will see performed.
But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey. Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. And so break off; the day is almost spent: Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my soldiers: For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. Suf. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. [Exeunt all but YORK. York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,
And change misdoubt to resolution.
Be that thou hop'st to be: or what thou art
Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying.
Let pale-faced fear keep within the mean-born
And find no harbour in a royal heart.
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought
on thought,
And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
My brain, more busy than the labouring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well, 't is politicly done
To send me packing with a host of men!
I fear me you but warm the starvéd snake,
Who, cherished in your breasts, will sting your
'T was men I lacked, and you will give them me!
I take it kindly: yet be well assured
You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell.
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent,
I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman,
John Cade, of Ashford,
To make commotion (as full well he can)
Under the title of John Mortimer.
In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
Oppose himself against a troop of kernes,
And fought so long till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a sharp-quilled porcupine:
And, in the end being rescued, I have seen him
Caper upright like a wild Mórisco,
Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.
Full often, like a shag-haired crafty kerne
Hath he converséd with the enemy;
And undiscovered come to me again,
And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble.
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
How they affect the house and claim of York.
Say he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;
I know no pain they can inflict upon him
Will make him say I moved him to those arms.
Say that he thrive (as 't is great like he will),
Why then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sowed:
For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.
SCENE II.-Bury. A Room in the Palace. Enter certain Murderers, hastily.
1st Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk: let him know
We have despatched the duke, as he commanded. 2nd Mur. O that it were to do!-What have we done?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent?
1st Mur. Here comes my lord.
Suf. Now, sirs, have you despatched this thing?
1st Mur. Ah, my good lord, he's dead.
Suf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to
my house :
I will reward you for this venturous deed.
The King and all the peers are here at hand.—
Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?
1st Mur. "T is, my good lord.
Suf. Away, be gone! [Exeunt Murderers. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL BEAUFORT, SOMERSET, Lords, and others. K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence straight:
Say we intend to try his grace to-day,
If he be guilty, as 't is published.
Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble lord.
K. Hen. Lords, take your places: and I pray
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approved in practice culpable.
Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should prevail,
That faultless may condemn a nobleman:
Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion!
K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret: these words
content me much.-
How now: why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
Where is our uncle? what is the matter, Suffolk? Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord: Gloster is dead!
Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend!
Car. God's secret judgment! I did dream
The duke was dumb and could not speak a word. [The KING swoons.
Q. Mar. How fares my lord?-Help, lords! the King is dead!
Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the
Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help!-O Henry, ope thine eyes!
Suf. He doth revive again:-Madam, be patient.
K. Hen. O heavenly God!
Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord? Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!
K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first conceived sound?
Hide not thy poison with such sugared words
Lay not thy hands on me: forbear, I say!
Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
Upon thy eyeballs murd'rous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding :-
Yet do not go away :-Come, basilisk,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death I shall find joy:
In life but double death, now Gloster's dead.
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk
Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he, most christian-like, laments his death:
And for myself, foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs, recal his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs,
And all to have the noble duke alive.
What know I how the world may deem of me?
For it is known we were but hollow friends;
It may be judged I made the duke away:
So shall my name with slander's tongue be
And princes' courts be filled with my reproach.
This get I by his death. Ah me, unhappy :
To be a Queen, and crowned with infamy!
K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched
man!
Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than
he is.
What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome leper; look on me.
What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen.
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?
Why then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy :
Erect his statue then, and worship it,
And make my image but an alehouse sign.
Was I for this nigh wrecked upon the sea;
And twice by aukward wind from England's
bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this but well-forewarning wind
Did seem to say, "Seek not a scorpion's nest,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?"
What did I then but cursed the gentle gusts,
And he that loosed them from their brazen caves;
And bid them blow towards England's blesséd
shores,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?
Yet Eolus would not be a murderer,
But left that hateful office unto thee:
The pretty vaulting sea refused to drown me;
Knowing that thou would'st have me drowned
on shore,
With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness:
The splitting rocks cowered in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides;
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from the shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm:
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck
(A heart it was, bound in with diamonds),
And threw it towards thy land: the sea
And so I wished thy body might my heart:
And even with this I lost fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
And called them blind and dusky spectacles,
For losing ken of Albion's wishéd coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconstancy)
To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenced in burning Troy?
Am I not witched like her; or thou not false
like him?
Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret:
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long!
Noise within. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY.
The Commons press to the door.
War. It is reported, mighty sovereign,
That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is mur-
dered
By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means.
The commons, like an angry hive of bees
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge.
Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.
K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 't is
But how he died God knows, not Henry.
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
And cómment then upon his sudden death.
War. That I shall do, my liege.—Stay, Salis
bury,
With the rude multitude, till I return.
[WARWICK goes into an inner room, and SALISBURY retires.
K. Hen. O Thou that judgest all things, stay
My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life!
If my suspect be false, forgive me, God;
For judgment only doth belong to thee.-
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears;
To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling:
But all in vain are these mean obsequies;
And to survey his dead and earthly image,
What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
The folding doors of an inner chamber are thrown
open, and GLOSTER is discovered dead in his
bed: WARWICK and others standing by it.
War. Come hither, gracious sovereign; view
K. Hen. That is to see how deep my grave is
For with his soul fled all my worldly solace:
For seeing him, I see my life in death.
War. As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King that took our state upon him
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-faméd duke.
Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue!
What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
War. See how the blood is settled in his face!
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the labouring heart;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy:
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er
returneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But see, his face is black and full of blood;
His eyeballs further out than when he lived,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man:
His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with
struggling;
His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped
And tugged for life, and was by strength subdued.
Look on the sheets; his hair you see is sticking:
His well-proportioned beard made rough and
rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged.
It cannot be but he was murdered here:
The least of all these signs were probable.
Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke
to death?
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection:
And we I hope, sir, are no murderers.
War. But both of you were vowed Duke
Humphrey's foes;
And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep. "T is like you would not feast him like a friend; And 't is well seen he found an enemy.
Q. Mar. Then you belike suspect these noble
As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death. War. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect't was he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder's crimson badge:— Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death.
[Exeunt CARDINAL, SOMERSET, and others. War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?
Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious
spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
War. Madam, Le still, with reverence may
I say:
For every word you speak in his behalf
Is slander to your royal dignity.
Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour!
If ever lady wronged her lord so much,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed
Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock
Was graft with crabtree slip: whose fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevils' noble race.
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
And say it was thy mother that thou mean'st;
That thou thyself was born in bastardy :
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men!
Suf. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy
blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.
War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence: Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost. [Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK. K. Hen. What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just ;
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
[A noise within.
Q. Mar. What noise is this? Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their weapons drawn.
K. Hen. Why, how now, lords: your wrathful weapons drawn
Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk: where's Here in our presence! dare you be so bold?—
Is Beaufort termed a kite: where are his talons? Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men; But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,
Why what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
Noise of a crowd within. Re-enter SALISBURY.
Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the King shall know
your mind. [Speaking to those within.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
Unless false Suffolk straight he done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say by him the good Duke Humphrey
died;
They say in him they fear your highness'death:
And mere instinct of love and loyalty
(Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking)
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That if your highness should intend to sleep,
And charge that no man should disturb your
rest,
In pain of your dislike or pain of death,
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary you were waked;
Lest, being suffered in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal:
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenoméd and fatal sting
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say is shamefully bereft of life.
Commons. [Within.] An answer from the King, my lord of Salisbury.
Suf. "Tis like the commons, rude unpolished
hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign!
But you, my lord, were glad to be employed,
To shew how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won
Is that he was the lord ambassador
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King.
Commons. [Within.] An answer from the
King, or we will all break in.
K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thank them for their tender loving care;
And had I not been 'cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they so entreat:
For sure my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore by His majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of deatli.
[Exit SALISBURY.
Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead for gentle
Suffolk!
K. Hen. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk!
more, I say: if thou dost plead for him, Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. Had I but said, I would have kept my word; But when I swear, it is irrevocable :If, after three days' space, thou here be found On any ground that I am ruler of,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life. Come Warwick, come good Warwick, go with me: I have great matters to impart to thee.
[Exeunt K. HENRY, WARWICK, Lords, &c. Q. Mar. Mischance and sorrow go along with you:
Heart's discontent and sour affliction
Be playfellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third:
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
Suf. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
Q. Mar. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
Suf. A plague upon them! wherefore should
I curse them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Delivered strongly through my fixéd teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate
As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave:
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
My hair be fixed on end as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban :-
And even now my burdened heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink:
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees:
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks:
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings:
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss;
And boding screech-owls make the concert fuil!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-
Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk: thou tor-
ment'st thyself;
And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an overchargéd gun, recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.
Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me
Now, by the ground that I am banished from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport.
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